Page 53 of Rush

He holds out his arms to me. “Come here, Sammy.”

I move into his hold. His fingers grip my chin and he places a loving kiss on my lips. “We started the morning with me making love to you and showing you how much I crave everything about you. It’s how you deserve to wake up every day.”

My body melts into him, and my arms wrap around his waist. A vibration on the counter behind us catches my attention. Jameson picks up his phone and his eyes widen.

“Fuck!” He swears harshly and unwinds from my hold. “I got to go, Sam. One of the new guys messed up a machine and Johnny says a customer's car is upside down in the garage. Fuck! This is not how I wanted our morning to go.” He quickly dries off and grabs his toothbrush.

“It's okay. You go take care of the emergency. I have plenty of time to get Dylan ready and drop her off,” I assure him, sprinting out of the bathroom to hurry and get dressed myself.

Jameson breezes in behind me, grabbing a pair of jeans from his closet and a fresh t-shirt before throwing his CB Auto thermal on over it. His hands rake through his hair, making it messy but controlled. I watch as he grabs his phone and pockets it. I rush over and kiss him goodbye before he heads out the door.

When I hear the main door close, I glance around the room. It looks like a bomb went off. Quickly, I make the bed and pick up our discarded towels and place them in the bathroom. After brushing my hair and my teeth, I go to get Dylan up. My girl wakes up in a good mood, her little cheeks flushed pink and her eyes shining. After changing her into warm clothes, I set her in her booster seat for breakfast. My heart squeezes painfully when I realize that Jameson didn’t even have time to grab something to eat. Taking a paper bag from the pantry, I throw in some fruit, a Granola bar, and one of the breakfast sandwiches he likes that he keeps in the freezer. I also grab his water bottle and fill it, setting it next to the bag on the counter. Who knows how long he’ll be busy for this morning, but Dylan and I can drop this on his desk for him to find when he gets done.

After Dylan is done eating, I clean her up, and we get our shoes on. Right before we head out the door, my phone rings in my pocket. The screen flashes KANE.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” I ask, feeling my heart sink.

He sighs on the other end of the line. “The car isn’t damaged, but there is paint scratched on the top. Johnny is calling the owner, but it’s going to be a long day with calls and sorting insurance.”

“I’m sorry, Kane. I’m glad no one was hurt though,” I tell him, cradling the phone while I help tie Dylan’s shoe.

“Me too. I called to see if you can grab my wallet for me. I forgot it on my way out.”

“Yes, I can,” I tell him, heading back to our room, a smile on my lips. “I was actually going to stop into the shop on our way out. You didn’t get breakfast and I threw some things together for you.”

He laughs and the sound is light and warm. “I appreciate that, Pretty Girl.”

I reach for the jeans he wore last night that are still on the floor. “Is it in your pocket from last night?”

“No!” He says loudly, almost harsh. “No, sorry. It's on my nightstand.”

My eyes travel to the side of the bed where the brown leather square sits. I drop his jeans to the floor. “Okay.” I clear my throat, noticing the tension coming down the line. “I got it. We’ll be right down.”

“Thanks, Sam,” he replies, his voice now sounding gruff and tight. We hang up and I tuck the wallet into my pocket. My gaze goes back to his jeans on the floor. Jameson never leaves his clothes strewn about. He’s actually a man who always makes sure his clothes get in the basket. Last night neither of us cared where our clothes ended up and this morning we were in a hurry and didn’t get the chance to pick up. Still, his brusque way of shouting ‘No!’ that his wallet wasn’t in his pants pocket sticks with me. My stomach clenches.

Slowly, in a daze I move back over to the jeans and lift them from the floor. “It's nothing, Sam.” I talk to myself. “He promised no more secrets.” Damn it. My fingers slip in the left pocket and I exhale, feeling that it's empty. I do the same to the right pocket and freeze when I feel the delicate paper edges. Sliding my hand out, I hold the folded paper in my palm.

I want to ignore it. I do not want to make a big deal about finding the paper, knowing it could potentially be a hundred other things. A grocery list, a to-do list, a wish list for the garage, a budgeting sheet, a list of passwords even. My mind makes up all kinds of excuses and I’m close to putting it back when I note how worn it is. The paper is almost yellowing. But it's the chrome, little red star stickers on the edge that catch my attention and hold it. Carefully, my fingers unfold the paper that looks like it's been creased a thousand times over. I gasp when the familiar handwriting comes into view. My handwriting. My list of my life goals. But what really stops my heart is the things with slashes through them and the notes he’s scrawled in the margins. It lists my tuition at Michigan. The name of my apartment sits next to Live on my own. When I get to the end the word Babies is circled. When I made this list before senior year, I never knew the turns my life was going to take or how soon some of these goals would happen.

“Mommy!” Dylan parades down the hall, stopping in front of the open bedroom door.

I fold the paper and shove it in my pocket. “I’m ready, sweet girl.” Taking her hand, I lead her out of the room and we grab the food for Jameson. Walking down the stairs, I feel a flutter of nervousness in my chest. I try to school my features, not wanting to give away that I’ve seen another one of his secrets. I have so many questions, and I need to think. I need the space to do that. No one is in the office on our way out. I drop the breakfast, his water bottle and his wallet on his desk and scoop Dylan up before hurrying out. At my Jeep, I get her buckled in and drive toward her daycare. Dylan chatters happily in the back. I try to pay attention, but my mind keeps drifting back to that damn list. Daycare drop off goes smooth, and finally, I’m able to head to campus. I park my Jeep and walk toward the building where my first class is. My hand grips my phone and it vibrates in my fist.

KANE: Thanks for dropping my wallet off. Everything okay?

He knows. Somehow he knows, I can feel it. My fingers fly over the keys.

ME: Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?

I wait for an answer. Seconds pass and those little bubble dots dance and disappear.

KANE: Okay, Pretty Girl.

That one sentence looks innocent, but I can read between the lines in Jameson speak. He knows I looked through his pockets. He knows I saw the list. My heart jumps in my chest and my eyes swing around me. I duck into the library and walk deep into the stacks, away from prying eyes. Dropping my bag to the floor, I pull out the paper again. My gaze flicks over the list, ranging from my senior year and beyond. I remember sitting down to write it, Jameson looking over my shoulder. That was the last time I saw it on paper, thinking my mom had accidentally thrown it away with my trash. I guess now I know where it went. The more I read, the more bits of information I’ve heard recently come back to me. Buy my own car. My aunt pretty much told me at Thanksgiving that Jameson was responsible for me having my Jeep. A sinking realization happens and I hear Isla’s voice in my head.

“He competes in many races but mostly only those with a lot of money on the line,” Isla explains further.

“How much money?”